


First Light

by solangelobabies



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solangelobabies/pseuds/solangelobabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You cannot fix, something that has never been whole. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The journey of a son of Apollo, born into this world with gentle smiles and kind laughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Light

“A child of Apollo? Lies!” 

“The woman does not have a single drop of royal blood coursing  through her veins, why would  the _god_ Apollo choose her?”

“She is not beautiful. She is not rich. She is not enough for Apollo.”

The rumors spread through the small city called Epidaurus like a wildfire, whispers hopping from one group of huddled women to another.

Every time Althea would walk by, her swollen belly protruding from underneath her dress, disapproving looks would be cast down at her, for the god of healing was not present, leaving her to her own fate. 

Althea herself could not find it in her to care as she let a waterfall of auburn fall down her back, keeping her dark eyes, filled with a joy only a mother could understand, focused on the air in front of her. Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight, her skin embracing it like an old friend. An easy smile adorned her face, softening her features, making her seem almost childlike. But the slightly pink scar that ran down from the temple of her head to the tip of her chin, spoke otherwise. No one knew what had happened, for she refused to speak of it.

 

Once the child was born, the rumors and harsh whispers stopped spreading abruptly, as if a dam had been placed between their mouths and the air they breathed.

They stopped once they saw the boy, only an infant, but there was no mistaking who he was. A halo of golden hair sprouted from his small head, naturally sun-kissed skin covering every inch of his bones. A shower of hazel freckles dotted his chubby, slightly pink cheeks and the bridge of his turned up nose. His pouty lips were parted into a gentle smile as he slept. But that wasn’t the most remarkable about him. For once he opened his eyes, the whole world seemed to stop for a moment. To say they were blue would be an understatement. They were blue, but not like the salty waters of the sea crashing against jagged rocks. They were blue, but not like the Greek sky under which they lived. No, they were blue like opals. Milky and light, flecked with gold; innocent, yet not naïve. His name was given the name Wilius, son of Apollo. His resemblance to his mother was minimal, but their carefree smiles and kind hearts could not be less different.

People stopped to look at him when passing by, this time not with disapproval, but admiration. The strangers would try to stroke his face on the occasion the pair left the house, but Althea’s nimble hands slapped them away, as she hurried back to her home, holding the child to her small frame.

 

-

 

Wilius grew up a healthy child, eyes always bright, smile always present. At age six he ran around outside with boys his age, lifting his small feet rapidly, leaving clouds of dust and sand behind him, beads of sweat dripping down his tan skin in the midday sun. His mother watched from afar, occasionally stealing a glance at the sky, hoping he was watching and smiled to herself. They did that a lot; smiling.

 

-

 

He sat alone in his room, staring at his soft fingers. They were moving out of their own accord, dancing an imaginary dance in the humid air. Their movements were graceful, as if he was strumming an invisible lyre. Sudden rays of blissful light started uncurling from his fingertips, penetrating the room with sunlight. They graced the walls with warmth, swirling every time the boy moved his fingers. He laughed in delight, opal eyes sparkling as the magic unfolded before him, caught in childish joy.

That night his father visited him for the first time. Will, his mother took a delight in calling him that, was dreaming about the night sky, dark, yet beautiful, illuminated with countless constellations, constantly changing. He was lying on the grass, trying to identify them all with the little knowledge he had. He could feel the warmth of another body lying next to him, but found he could not twist his own to look at them. So he just lay there and stared.

An eruption of gold obscured his vision for a moment and he soon found himself staring at a man. His hair was the same shade as his own. That was not the only trait they shared; same piercing eyes, bronze skin, lanky physique. In fact, they would have looked almost identical, if the man, his father, was younger.

For a few seconds they just stared at each other, taking in the other male’s appearance. Apollo’s eyes did not hold any warmth for his son, but neither did they hold any distaste. He did not greet him, nor acknowledge him, but uttered a few simple words, before vanishing as fast as he came.

 

“No one must see.”

 

Will woke up in the cot in his room, drenched in sweat. It took him a few moments to calm down and a few more to process his father’s words.

_No one must see._

He shivered slightly, despite the heat of the night, tucked himself under the sheets and stumbled into a restless slumber.

 

-

 

“Mother?” he asked one October night.

The air outside couldn’t yet be called chilly, but the summer warmth had evaporated a long time ago.

“Yes dear?” she replied. She had tried to stay clear from words of endearment; worried it would soften her son too much, but could not help herself this time.

Will lifted his tender hands to Althea’s face, stroking the scar gently. He was eight years of age now, but was wiser than his years. Althea, surprised by the gesture, stiffened under his touch.

“Mother, how did you receive this?” he asked cautiously, pleading with his eyes.

She sighed, her forehead creasing slightly, causing her already wrinkling skin to be accentuated.

“I shall tell you one day. But that day is not today” she answered simply, turning her face away slightly to hide the tears that were starting to well in the corners of her eyes.

 

-

 

Her once bright skin sagged around her face, its glow forgotten. Her eyes did not sparkle anymore, a dullness taking its place, as if all the joy of life had been sucked out of them. Even her always gentle smile started to fade as she lay writhing on the cot, clutching to her stomach in agony.

_She is sick_ Will thought, a look of concern contorting his features before he rushed up to her.

 He pressed his hands gently to her forehead, stroking the burning skin, as if to take the pain away. He felt her misery course through him at the touch and he begun to sing a hymn. He did not know how he knew it, or where he knew it from, but the delicate words tumbled from his lips instinctively.

He felt her ease under his touch, but something told him that this would not be enough. She slid into an uneasy sleep, tossing her bed sheets away frantically as he left her side to look for necessities for the journey ahead of them.

Once he had gathered enough supplies, he returned to his mother’s room. Her once healthy auburn hair lay spread out on the cot, now greasy and unkempt, her small frame even frailer than before. He lay down next to her, cradling her sweaty head in his arms. They stayed that way the whole night.

 

When his father pulled the chariot across the sky the next morning, he woke up Althea swiftly. He clothed her and led them to the door of their house, supporting her weight on himself. Their destination was only a day’s walk away, but he could see her struggle to lift her feet. Each step seemed to pain her, her whole body scrunching up and relaxing, before repeating the process again with the next. Will supported her as much as he could, but could not relief her from all her pain. They stopped at midday to eat and rest briefly, but continued hastily, for Althea’s state only seemed to worsen.

Once they had reached the sanctuary, the son of Apollo rushed his mother to the enkoimeteria of the asclepion. The sun was already setting underneath the ocean, its rays dipping into Poseidon’s realm, one by one. Rosy clouds swam in the sky, but Will was not distracted by its beauty. 

He lay his mother down into one of the empty cots, willing her into a deep slumber with his voice.

“Wilius…Will” she muttered, eyes drooping slowly. Her ragged breaths slowly evened out, her thrashing coming to a stop.

Just being in the temple of the god of healing, seemed to ease both of them. The tension evaporated out of the twelve year olds shoulders, like water turning into humid damp. He took in his surroundings for the first time since arriving, marveling at his half-brother’s temple.

The healing centre of Asclepius was remarkable to say the least. It had rows and rows of cots, filled with tossing pilgrims, their hair dirty, faces gaunt. Snakes hissed past cots, the sacred creatures of Asclepius, their black eyes stony and fierce.  He noticed a priest standing in the far end of the room, scanning the enkoimeteria expressionlessly, his thin lips set into a tight line. The man took one final look at the room, closed the door for the night and left them to their agony.

Will yawned, stretching his lanky limbs above his head, his movements almost feline. He sat by his mother’s side for maybe minutes, maybe hours, but couldn’t deny the drowsiness that had filled him from within. It started out as a dull ache, but his head was now yearning for a well deserved slumber.

He lay down in a cot next to his sick mother and everything went black.

 

“A failed endeavor,

A foolish choice,

A final answer,

And a soul shall lose its voice” a voice boomed. _Asclepius._

 

He woke up that morning frantically, the words of the prophecy still ringing through his head. He snapped his head to the side, paranoia taking over, but was assured once he saw the sleeping form of his mother huddled under the bed sheets. Relief flooded him like a waterfall, but the panic he felt earlier lingered, filling his whole being with dread.

When she woke up, she looked as frightened as Will felt, head bobbing in all directions, eyes wild with fear. The boy rested a somewhat comforting hand on her thin shoulder, calming her down.

 

“What did Asclepius tell you?” he asked her.

 

She just shook her head.

 

 “Did he not recommend a cure?”

 

But she did not answer, only staring ahead of her with glazed eyes.

 

The priest walked up to them later, asking the same questions Will had, but he too, failed to receive an answer.

 

“I do not wish to speak of it” Althea answered simply, voice weak with sickness.

 

After their first night in the temple, they were placed into the healing dormitories, katagogein, with other sick and injured patients. Althea refused any treatment offered to her, dismissing the healers with a slight wave of her arm, not even with Will _begging_ her to cooperate. This went on for days, the woman’s once bright light fading into a feeble flicker. Her symptoms were worsening too, a mere fever evolving into coughing fits that stained her pillow scarlet, her once rich brown eyes now stared listlessly, dull and lifeless. But what shattered Will’s heart the most was her smile. Or rather, the lack of it. The only idiosyncrasy they shared, that marked him as her son, was gone. He clung to her hand dearly every night, tears falling from his eyes, his soul fragile.

 

He was beyond desperate at this point. His mother barely ate or drank, staring at the white ceiling above her for hours.

 

“Do not look. Promise me you shall not look.”

 

Althea nodded, not processing his words, for she was delirious.

He looked around cautiously, but the cots around them were empty Will lifted his fingertips to her eyes, closing her eyelids and began to move his fingers. They danced their own dance, just like he remembered swirls of light emerging from them. They curled around Althea, swallowing her whole form, making her glow. Will could see the color returning to her cheeks, the bags under her eyes starting to fade.

But then she opened her eyes. And stared. The swirls turned an unpleasant grey and started viciously attacking her, causing cries of pain to escape her mouth.

 

_A failed endeavor,_

_A foolish choice,_

 

Will stared at the sight, shocked at first, but as soon as he realized what was happening he commanded the light to disappear, which it did. He rushed over to her side, but could already see her dying figure, struggling for air.

 

“He told me it would end like this,” she gasped once she found it, “In that dream, he told me if I did not die here, you would never become great. That you would never be happy”

 

_A final answer,_

 

Will gently stroked her face, the salty tears rolling down his once chubby cheeks.

 

“I love you” he whispered against her cheek. But her eyes were already blank, filled with death. Her body went limp, under his touch, her mouth parted in a final cry of misery, but her voice was absent.

 

_And a soul shall lose its voice._

That night he wept by her side, sniffing into the sheets, wails of agony echoing through the katagogein.

 

-

 

After his mother’s death, Will decided to stay and work as a healer in the sanctuary, for he could not bear to return to the home they had once shared. The house once filled with laughter and merriment, with childhood and innocence. He could not bear to go back.

 

He soon turned into one of the best healers they had, despite his young age. Everyone treated him with great honor and respect, he was a half-god after all, and he found himself a new family. He fit in easily between them, his gentle nature and friendliness being the reason.

 

Once he turned sixteen, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this boy was a natural talent. He surpassed all of the other healers, some of them that had been healers for over twenty years. New rumors circled the surrounding areas, but soon they spread throughout the whole country.

 

“A son of Apollo! His skills rival those of Asclepius himself!”

  
“The best healer of our age!”

 

“He is said to have brought a girl from the Underworld after a fatal accident.”

 

Similar whispers filled the streets of Greece once more, but Will did not notice or hear of them. Not until one day, two men, dressed in splendid bronze armor, on two grand horses that dragged a wagon behind them arrived at the sanctuary. They entered the katagogein, eyes scanning wildly through the crowd of healers. They grabbed a man by his wrists and furiously whispered something into his ear. Trembling, he pointed in Will’s direction. The two men nodded and headed towards him.

Will, oblivious to the commotion until now, lifted his head from the patient he was tending, to gawk at the two newcomers.

 

“Are you Wilius of Epidaurus, son of Apollo?” one asked once they had approached him.

 

Will only manage to nod his head feebly, paralyzed in his place.

 

“We have been sent by prince Nicolaos of Mantinea. He wishes to see you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I did a lot of research on this topic, but I'm sure a lot of aspects still aren't historically accurate, but oh well. I also had to change up their names a bit to fit the whole Greek theme hihi
> 
> This chap was kind of a build up of Will's background, because I don't want this story to only focus on solangelo, but other problems and situations too. Next chapter should be hopefully up in a week, but I don't think I'll be updating on a regular schedule.
> 
> So to explain things a little, Epidaurus is the birthplace of Asclepius, the god of healing, and they had the best healing centre of the ancient world.   
> In a sanctuary near Peleponnesus there was a temple where pilgrims slept, called the asclepion and Asclepius would visit them in their dreams to give them cures and then they would be told what to do with that information by the priester and taken to dormitories where they would recover. Hope this helped!
> 
> Kudos and comments would mean a lot to me ^-^


End file.
